


in my city i've got say-so

by brophigenia



Category: Raven Cycle - Maggie Stiefvater
Genre: Alcohol, Alternate Universe - Bodyguard, Alternate Universe - Politics, American Politics, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bodyguard!Joseph Kavinsky, Drunk Sex, Governor!Adam Parrish, Gun Violence, M/M, Mentions of Gun Violence, Rimming, Rough Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-07
Updated: 2019-09-07
Packaged: 2020-10-12 01:03:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,681
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20555651
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brophigenia/pseuds/brophigenia
Summary: “Fuck you, Kavinsky.” Adam snarled, turning back to his desk.“I serve at your pleasure, Mr. Governor.” Kavinsky reminded him.(AKA, Adam Parrish is the youngest governor in state history, not to mention a former hard-on-organized-crime district attorney. He’s got a lot of enemies. On the advice of his top political advisor, Declan Lynch, he hires former mobster, current soldier-of-fortune Joseph Kavinsky to handle his protection detail after becoming aware of corruption in his own organization. It’s not ideal, but Adam is out of options.They have sex.)





	in my city i've got say-so

**Author's Note:**

> I wanted to write a bodyguard fic, and I let @glitterghost and @dkafterdark decide who I'd write it about. They chose Adam and K. I said 'wow, this will be a challenge.' And then I wrote this fic in two hours.

_i fight the world _   
_ i fight you_   
_ i fight myself_

***

“C’mon Parrish,” Kavinsky goaded, smile mean. “Say it. _ You’re fired.” _ He imitated Adam’s carefully-modulated tone and flattened accent, sounding strange coming out of a mouth that was usually all nasally New Jersey douchebag when it wasn’t just silent. Watchful. For all he seemed to never stop talking, people always underestimated how much Joseph Kavinsky _ listened. _

Adam’s fists clenched at his side. He wished that he _ could _ fire Kavinsky. He wished that he could _ kill _ Kavinsky. For a long moment he wished he was the kind of man that everyone seemed to wish he was, able to turn the other way and take the money and not _ care _so much. 

He wasn’t that kind of man, despite all the factors in his past that threatened to mold him into a monster in a skinsuit, handsome but blackened inside. Hollowed out. 

“Fuck you, Kavinsky.” He snarled, turning back to his desk. Kavinsky’s laugh came out like a bark, a sound like the hyenas in the zoo that Adam had visited during some campaign trail event or another, hungry and _ sharp. _

“I serve at your pleasure, Mr. Governor.” Kavinsky reminded him, before all of a sudden he had his hands on Adam, drawing back his arms and forcing his back to arch with barely any effort at all, economic movements that belied Kavinsky’s experience at subduing unsuspecting bodies. 

Adam wanted to thrash, smash the back of his head into Kavinsky’s nose, pick up the bronze lamp on his desk and smash Kavinsky’s goddamn brains in with it. He wanted to shout for his security detail, though he was sure that neither Swan nor Jiang would lift a hand to stop Kavinsky. 

Instead, he ground his hips backward and let his head fall back to rest on Kavinsky’s shoulder, baring the skin of his throat for Kavinsky to suck messily at, not quite hard enough to leave a bruise. “Then _ serve,” _ Adam groaned, full of fury and dread and _ want. _Exhausted. 

He’d been exhausted for so long he forgot what it felt like _ not _to be. Kavinsky pushed him face-first down onto the antique velvet chaise lounge that had come with the office. Another piece of ridiculously ornate waste that had come with the key to the governor’s mansion. Just another thing that made him feel like he didn’t belong. 

It was a taboo kind of delight, to be opened up by Kavinsky’s fingers and his _ mouth _ on the thing, his suit pants dragged down to his knees and his breath panting hot and half-smothered against the upholstery. Adam could remember the last time he’d had this- the last time he’d _ let _ himself have this, Ronan and his wide shoulders and black eyes, seventeen and knowing even then that he couldn’t carry on _ like that. _ Not if he wanted to be _ this, _ and even then he’d known he would eventually be _ this. _

Governor Parrish. 

Kavinsky fucked him hard enough to _ hurt, _digging strong fingers into Adam’s wiry thighs until he was sure he’d have bruises there, where they’d be hidden from the whole world. 

It was good. The pain was good. The pleasure was good. They both fought for the term _ better, _ but in the end they became the same, twined up together as Adam’s tension dissipated, the knot of anxiety in his chest going undone with each too-hard thrust. Neither of them spoke. Adam could feel Kavinsky’s pinky ring like a cool ridge of too-much sensation when the hand it graced snaked beneath him to wrap around his cock, jerking him off just as deliberate and _ mean. _

When he came, Adam felt it through all of his body, his mouth trembling with the effort it took not to cry out, either to shout or laugh or _ weep. _ Kavinsky pulled out immediately then, and Adam watched him with the eye that wasn’t closed and wetting the couch cushion with overwhelmed tears. He stalked over to the wastecan and jerked himself off with one hand planted flat on the desktop and his head down, the tautness of his shoulders apparent even beneath his inky black suit jacket. He made no sound the entire time except for a soft, sweet gasp right at the moment of completion, a noise like honeysuckle on the breeze. Incongruent with the black clothes and devil’s grin and crossed-out tattoo on the hand he worked himself with. A black _ X _ thick and clumsily applied over the crimson _ K. _Prison ink over professional. A statement. 

Adam rose to his feet despite the twinges of pain and the way he wanted to fall asleep right there, pants half-off and semen striping the settee. He was good at ignoring the needs of his body. He’d had to learn how to be good at it long before he ever lived in this echoing cavern of plush carpeting and antique light fixtures that cost, each, more than the trailer he’d grown up in, back in Henrietta. 

“I’m going out tonight.” He told Kavinsky, back to the man as he straightened his clothing to something resembling _ acceptable. _“Fundraiser gala at one of the museums.” 

“Yes, sir.” Kavinsky murmured, and Adam could feel his presence behind him as he stepped out of the office and was immediately joined by his personal aide. 

“You’ve got a meeting with Senator Gansey at two, Mr. Governor, and the Chief of Police would like to speak with you between your appointment with the Senator and the fundraising event tonight about the Ramirez case.” Ashley listed off, all business in her sharply-cut skirt and blazer set. She did not comment on his state beyond getting on her earpiece to order a freshly-pressed suit brought from the residence. 

Sore between his legs, Adam set his jaw. 

He could do this. 

***

Adam was too-drunk. He’d not intended to be, exactly, but the fault lay on his shoulders for it regardless of his intention at the start of the night. He’d been the one to drink the scotch (and the bourbon, the whiskey, the cognac) and now here he was wet-mouthed and furious and _ hot _ in the back of his car, Kavinsky in the front seat _ looking _at him in the rearview mirror as Adam’s chauffeur steered them expertly through the crowded city streets. 

He despised _ events. _ Despised everything about the position he’d been elected to perform that wasn’t _ doing something. _ He had become the governor to help people, to serve the people, to make his _ mark. _ Not to rub elbows with old white Republicans and pretend like he cared about any of their _ wants. _ Their cajoling. Their veiled _ threats. _They were a pit of vipers. 

Adam was tired of being the snake charmer. 

Again he thought of Ronan, still hiding from the world on his family estate. It had been so long that he was sure he’d have forgotten every line of Ronan if he wasn’t living with a constant reminder of him, Declan the image of his younger brother but for his neatly-coiffed dark hair. They walked the same, even, like panthers stalking prey, light on the balls of their feet and shoulders always loose. Adam had never met Niall Lynch, but he felt certain that the man had moved the same way. 

“Mr. Governor.” His chauffer’s voice broke Adam’s reverie. They’d arrived. K stood watchfully halfway between the car and the front door, hands clasped in front and pinky ring glinting in the floodlights placed on either side of the walk. 

Kavinsky trailed him as he went through the front door, nodding to the staff members he passed on his way to the grand staircase. Everything on him ached, but still he buzzed restlessly beneath his skin. In the hallway outside of his bedroom, Adam looked over his shoulder to catch Kavinksy’s eye. 

He had very dark eyes. They were as unlike Ronan’s as it was possible to be, but something about them made Adam’s mouth taste coppery-metallic, familiar heat inching up the back of his neck. 

“Yeah?” K asked, raking his gaze down Adam’s body and back up like it had only just occurred to him. Like he hadn’t thought of it, too, of taking Adam apart again like had become the norm for nights (and days) like this. Full of the grind, the hopelessness, the _ fight. _ The fight to stay alive. The fight to make a _ difference. _

Adam didn’t respond, only left the door open as he went through it, beginning to loosen his tie as he made his way over to the bed. 

“Keep it on.” K commanded, following him inside. “Sit on the chair.” He indicated the burnished leather armchair in the small sitting area in the corner opposite to Adam’s king-sized four-poster bed. 

Adam raised his eyebrows silently as if to say _ who do you think you are? _but went gamely enough to sit down, tie left slightly loose and thighs sprawled. K poured him another drink at the sidebar, taking a reckless swig straight from the cut-crystal decanter before he stalked over to hand Adam the snifter and sink to his knees on the thick carpeting, fitting perfectly in the space between Adam’s legs. Like he’d been carved for the purpose. 

(It was a dangerous thought.) 

“You should let me deal with those motherfuckers.” K told him, conversationally savage even as he worked at Adam’s belt and flies. 

Adam laughed with a dark mirth he didn’t feel. He threaded the fingers of his free hand into K’s dark hair, tugging harshly. “You’re not my guard dog.” 

Eyes gone hot, K licked a quick stripe up the underside of his cock and spoke only once more before stuffing his own throat full. “No. But I’ve killed richer bastards for less.” 

It played out in his mind; Adam thought of how K might do it, whether he’d arrange for it to happen or do it with his own hands. Taking down the worst of Adam’s dissenters. _ Permanently. _

Adam was not that kind of man. Not that kind of politician. 

But, _ fuck, _ with his cock battering Joseph Kavinsky’s tonsils and his gut full of dark liquor, he wished he _ was. _

He’d fuck K, after, maybe. Or maybe he’d let K fuck _ him, _ blood on his clothes, his hands, his _ soul. _The light part of him recoiled in disgust even as the dark part of him purred at the thought. K’s hand tangled in his tie, not pulling, only holding. That fucking tattooed hand. 

“We shouldn’t be doing this,” Adam said, rationally, though he couldn’t stop thrusting his hips up into K’s mouth and he hadn’t taken his hand out of K’s hair. “We oughta- we gotta _ stop.” _The slow but sharply curving syllables of Virginia’s Blue Ridge Mountains came spilling from his clumsy, slurring lips, pleasure and alcohol and horror decimating Adam’s control over his learned Transatlantic accent. 

K didn’t _ stop. _ He kept going, swallowing thickly until Adam didn’t even have the power to say his own _ name, _ much less make protestations he did not mean. Not down where it mattered. Only his _ mind _ objected, his sense of _ decency, _and that was easily enough ignored with enough suction applied to the correct spots. 

“God,” Adam prayed hoarsely, unable to drop his head backwards or cover his face because of the grip K had on his tie and the grip he himself had on K’s hair and the glass of undrunk bourbon sloshing as he tried to simultaneously pull back and thrust _ in. “God.” _

K hummed, hellish in his pleasure at Adam’s despair. 

***

The sling was black, K’s left eye was purple, and Adam couldn’t have been more furious if he tried. 

“You’re fired.” He seethed, low and dangerous, shoulders squared and standing too-close to K. Close enough to see every shade of purple and black that his bruise had turned, swollen shut. Lavender, violet, indigo, _ obsidian. _Pretty words for such a horror. It didn’t do anything to change the way Adam felt whenever he looked at K, out of control like a forest fire raging far past the controlled burn it had started out as. 

He’d done all he could not to sell his soul to Wall Street, to the Party, to the darkness in his heart. 

He’d not thought to guard it from _ Joseph Kavinsky, _the physical manifestation of everything he’d been fighting since he’d stepped foot in Aglionby Academy so many years ago now. A prince, exiled but not powerless. A man with more blood on his hands than Lady MacBeth. A demon, sent straight from the bowels of the criminal underground to ruin him. 

“Yeah?” K asked, narrowing his good eye. “Who the fuck is gonna take care of you then, _ Mr. Governor?” _He sneered the title, mocking the way he never was when he addressed Adam in front of others. He could be the pinnacle of respect. He could be so many things. 

Adam didn’t have that luxury. 

“I’ll find someone else.” He said, stiffly, and curled his hands into tight fists instead of reaching out to either strike K or draw him close. He wanted to shake. Wanted to peel off the bandages underneath K’s crisp oxford to touch the bullet hole there with trembling fingertips. The bullet hole meant for _ him, _except K had not gotten that memo. 

He remembered lying on the concrete with K’s blood on his mouth and K’s body curled over his, shielding him from the spray of bullets still coming. The crowd had been screaming. K had been screaming, too, _ code red shots fired code red shots fired _into his earpiece as he kept Adam pinned with his one good arm. 

“Who?” K bit out, stepping even closer until Adam had to fight the urge to flee. He didn’t want to be this close to K. Didn’t want to feel the heat radiating off of him, or notice the tension wrinkling the corners of his eyes. He was probably in pain, still. Adam wondered if he’d been taking the pain pills that the hospital had prescribed, and then wondered about the bronze chip that he’d seen K flipping restlessly between his knuckles from time to time. “That’s the reason you hired _ me.” _ The self-loathing was thick in K’s voice, his mouth twisting stubbornly. “There _ is _nobody else.” 

“Then I’ll fucking _ resign!” _ Adam bellowed, and gave into the urge he’d felt long ago to snatch up the heavy bronze lamp off of his desk and fling it at the wall where it gave a terrific _ crash _ as it connected with a gilt-framed portrait of the first governor. At the sound, Swan and Jiang both entered the room with their weapons drawn, an unimportant detail to Adam’s racing mind. He could barely hear K’s savagely-snapped _ get the fuck out _over the sound of his own thundering heartbeat, his blood rushing in his ears. 

K caught him by the back of the neck with his good hand, the one not immobilized in a sling. It was the one with the tattoo, but Adam didn’t care. K had been screaming into his earpiece until he _ wasn’t, _ and Adam remembered most vividly the sensation of K’s full weight on him and not being able to tell if K was breathing or not, blood everywhere and nothing making _ sense. _

“Adam.” K said for the first time, pressing their foreheads together. Adam could feel his breath, warm, fanning across his own mouth. _ “Adam.” _

“Swear you won’t do it again.” Adam demanded. There had been so _ much _blood. 

“No.” K told him, and crushed their mouths together in a kiss more vicious than sweet. Full of emotion, though not all of them _ good. _

It wasn’t enough. It was too much. Adam wanted to send him far away, and he wanted to stay like this forever. 

“Mr. Governor, you’ve got Justice Ginsburg on line one.” Ashley said over the intercom, and Adam extricated himself from K’s grip to take up his place at the gubernatorial desk, picking up the phone. 

“Your Honor, how can I help you today?” 

***

_it's you, it's you, _  
_it's all for you,  
_ _everything i do. _

**Author's Note:**

> follow me @ brophigenia.tumblr.com


End file.
